Okay, I consider myself a pretty stylish person with one small exception – the skivvies department. I can’t believe I am admitting this in public, but I do have underwear and bras dating back to college; circa 1993. Yes, I know – my mother would not be happy if I were to get in a wreck. I don’t think my panties would stand the test.
So when my friend Missy asked if I had my “wedding night” attire picked out – my blank stare was enough for her. Poor Shane, out of all my millions of “to do” lists I had going; it honestly hadn’t even crossed my mind. So Missy wastes no time in dragging me to Victoria Secret.
When we got there, I made the mistake of telling her I was wearing my first pair of thongs (from an earlier intervention) from about 10 years ago. She looked at me in absolute horror. Obviously, this was worse than she thought. She was on the verge of making me go to the bathroom, strip off the offensive panties and go commando, just so she could watch me get rid of them.
I immediately head straight for my comfort zone – 100% cotton pjs with long pants. She immediately turns me around and shoves me into a dressing room, as I’m obviously not to be trusted to pick out my own wedding night ensemble.
(Okay – I’m obviously not a regular at VS, but really? Do they think they are doing us a favor with the fluorescent lights in the dressing room showing off every lump, stretch mark and hail damage? I mean it is bad enough we have to look at the disgustingly perfect, airbrushed, sized- zero fake boob models every time we turn around, they can’t at least have mood lighting in the dressing room?) And so I digress…
Missy begins bringing me outfits that I can only imagine have been used for adult films. Seriously? I can’t go from flannel pj’s to this? Especially with this lighting…it was horrifying to say the least. As I told Missy I was a bit uncomfortable – her non-sympathetic response was “Marn, you aren’t going jogging in it!” So I shut up.
After several outfits and even more looks of disgust in the mirror, I finally decided on a couple of “nightgowns” which were a bit more discreet and I didn’t feel like I should charge by the hour. I pinky swore to Missy that I would go home and purge my underwear drawer for anything dating before the millennium and we were good to go.
So what was the verdict from Shane? Hey, my parents read this…so I will just say that my friend Missy has made the top of his Christmas list.